*masturbates for serotonin*
oof felt that

JVL

blake kathryn
Today's Document

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Andulka

tannertan36

No title available
taylor price
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sade Olutola
🪼

if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap

Kaledo Art
AnasAbdin

titsay

No title available

@theartofmadeline
Mike Driver
seen from Brazil

seen from Morocco

seen from France
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seen from United States

seen from Georgia
seen from Venezuela
seen from New Zealand
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States

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seen from Italy
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@hanjiwh0re
*masturbates for serotonin*
oof felt that
i was bored.
oop
wishing i was pegging somebody's son and watching him twitch and pant into his pillow beneath me while i run my hands over his back and hips and tell him what a good pretty boy he is for me
Reblog if you have daddy/mommy issues
I’m just curious about how many people have to go through this shit.
Filling in the Holes: The potential queerness of Stanley Yelnats (and Zero.)
A long post with many Holes spoilers ahead.
Lately, I’ve been reading the book Holes with some of my students. This of course means I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and one thought that has wiggled into my mind and refused to leave is this idea of “what is Stanely and Zero are queer?” Or, if nothing else, function as a metaphor for queer kids and their first relationships? (note: I am using queer here as an umbrella term for anything non cis-heteronormative. This could imply them as gay, bi, pan, ace with a same-gender attraction, trans, or any other number of queer identities) Also note: I am only using the book Holes for this reading, not the movie, author’s comments, or follow up works.
Holes is a book built around the idea of inference. Much of the underlying meaning of the book is in the subtext, inferences, not directly stated. The finale chapter even tells the read that we have to “fill in the holes” ourselves to answer any lingering questions. Well, get your shovels ready my friends! We have a hole to fill.
There are three levels of this queer reading that, together, make the case for me. There is the textual relationship of Stanley and Zero, their place within the parallels to other sets of characters, and finally the Hole metaphor itself. Bear with me to then end.
1. Stanely and Zero within the text.
The central relationship of Holes is the fire-forged bond between Stanley Yelnats and Hector Zeroni, known as Zero. They become friends, look out for each other, save each other’s lives. Stanley teaches Zero how to read, risks his life to save his, even carries him up a mountain, and eventually brings Zero home with him.
Within Holes, neither Stanley or Zero are ever mentioned having an interest in girls. In fact, the only mention of girlfriends, is from X-ray, suggesting that Stanley is writing to a girlfriend so the others won’t bother him about writing to his mom. Their strongest bond is to each other.
Now, textually, all of this reads as pure platonic friendship (albeit a very strong one.) This may have even been the intention of the author while writing it. But there are some very…interesting moments that can be seen as framing this friendship as something even deeper. Notably, while on Big Thumb, Stanley watches Zero sleep for hours. At one point, he is mesmerized by the way a flower petal dances across Zero’s face as he breathes. There’s nearly two paragraphs of Stanley just watching that flower petal and being disappointed when it finally falls on the ground. That’s some friendship you got there, Stanley.
But this, in itself, is more fanfic fodder than queer reading. However, there is more.
2. The Kate and Sam parallel.
There are two sets of characters that Stanley and Zero clearly parallel in the books, with two curses that must be broken that accompany them. (Both of these pairs are male-female pairs as well)
The first and most obvious is Elya and Madame Zeroni, Stanley and Zero’s respective ancestors. Elya was cursed when he failed to carry Madame Zeroni up a mountain and let her drink from the water there. Stanley breaks this family curse by carrying Zero up Big Thumb and saving his life with the water that is there.
The SECOND parallel is far more interesting, and that is with Kate and Sam. Kate and Sam are the whirlwind tragic romance of the book. The white school teacher and the black illiterate onion picker who fall in love. The Green Lake is cursed when Sam is killed by the town and thus, Sam and Kate are ripped apart.
There are clear parallels with Sam and Zero. Both black, both illiterate, both incredibly smart (Sam is a brilliant salesman and can memorize poetry just by hearing it once, while Zero is a math genius.)
Now, SAM is run out of town after his relationship with Kate is discovered. He flees across the lake and is killed, thus cursing the Lake for a hundred years. Not a drop of rain falls on the lake and it shrivels up.
ZERO is run out of town after his relationship with Stanley comes to light. The other boys know that Stanley has been teaching Zero to read and Zero has been digging his Holes. Like the sheriff sits back and allows Sam to be killed, the counselors at the Camp sit back and let Zero run out across the lake to die.
Except, he does not die. While Kate could not save Sam, STANLEY can save Zero. He takes off after him, and eventually works to get Zero to go home with him. Once Stanley and Zero are taken home together, it begins to rain on the lake. The curse is lifted.
The lake is cursed because Sam and Kate were ripped apart. The curse on the lake is lifted when Stanley and Zero are allowed to stay together. Romantic parallels, yes?
But we have one more point to cover.
3. The holes-closetmetaphor.
Here is what I propose: digging the holes themselves is a metaphor for staying in the closet.
Being in the closet, I should start by saying, is not a state of being. It is a process. It is a constant effort, censoring yourself, watching yourself, walking on eggshells. Digging the holes within the book functions as a metaphor for this.
Every single day, Stanley and Zero dig holes. It is hard work, tiring work, dangerous in its own right. On top of that, they are constantly monitored, like those in the closet always feel eyes on them to stay hidden. The grueling, dangerous work of digging is like the dangerous work of staying in the closet. Every day, they dig the same hole, the same depth, the same with, trying to stay within the same, acceptable mold. And why do it? Because the alternative- coming out, or leaving the camp, is seen as both isolating and even MORE dangerous.
But eventually, Zero DOES leave. Tired of digging, he risks the desert.
And Stanley follows him. Like a queer kid following their first partner out of the closet, Stanley risks the desert for Zero. It nearly kills them both, like coming out can be deadly for some.
But you know what happens? Because of that risk, they both eventually end up FREE and TOGETHER by relying on each other and the strength of their relationship.
So what does all this mean?
It will be easy for many to look at this analysis and simply write it off, to attack it, that I’m trying too hard, to say terrible and homophobic things about it. And I expect that. I’m not saying that this reading was intentional by the author, but I am saying that it exists regardless.
Between the actual depth of relationship between Stanley and Zero, their clear parallel to Sam and Kate, and the poignancy of the holes-closet metaphor, I think it is WELL within reason for us to view their story as a queer story if we want to. And I do.
You heard it here, having self-confidence and self-love is satanic!!
I made this. Don’t know why. Now it’s y’all’s problem.
lol yes
Isn't he cute ?
Artist: @kimjungs_ang
My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.
do they smoke weed?
Yes, actually.
you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?
It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)
They don’t look like they smoke weed.
Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.
Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING
Well that escalated quickly……
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
haha oh my god
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.
and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.
“the goo pile that is now your body”
i’m dying over here, jesus
please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.
*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot… *leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*
this dude playin omg
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.* Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
date of origin: 2015
this kills me every time i read it
I’m just saying
So like being the big spoon as a female is underrated tbh. I see a lot of people talk about being the small spoon and wiggling their booty around to be a tease. It’s becoming generic. Being a big spoon is great because I can reach for his cock and tease it while whispering dirty things in his ear or biting his ear lobe. Also, easier access to the booty. Boy butts are nice to grab and play with. You can also thrust and make him crave a pegging. I don’t feel as restricted when I’m the big spoon and I have my precious boy in my arms. So many more ways to tease him and for him to know who’s in control.
yupp^
nsfw?
am i the only one who wants to grab someone (hisoka, kenma, kiyoko, yumeko, ANYONE) by the neck and make them call me mommy?
um anyways-
Miss Honey mothered a generation of cottagecore lesbians
give up on your dreams and die.
levi ackerman